


Unclean

by minniemoments



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minniemoments/pseuds/minniemoments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the line Sam said from The Great Escapist (8.21) "And I remember... thinking, um, I could never go on a quest like that... because I'm not clean."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unclean

Most of the time, Sam could forget. He could forget those little nagging, belittling thoughts that called him a freak, an abomination, an aberration. He would lose himself in day-to-day events - hunts, chats, gambling. It was when he had nothing left to do when these thoughts crept into his mind. Tonight was one of those times.

***

Dean slept soundly in the bed next to him. Sam couldn’t sleep though. He tried to will himself to sleep by watching the weather channel, but to no avail. After the tv screen went fuzzy (the set had to be at least 12 years old), he gave up and turned off the tv. He tried another tactic: making tomorrow’s to-do list - shower, shave, wash hair, wash face... It almost worked; the task of listing was tiring. His eyelids were becoming heavier and his yawns were coming quicker. He felt himself drift off, but then the heater stalled and made a rattling sound before cutting off. His body jolted back to full awareness at the sound and he was back at square one. 

With few other ideas, Sam attempted to at least get comfortable by switching from an upright position to a more lateral position. He curled in a ball under the covers for warmth, an arm between his head and the pillow. He let his thoughts wander, hoping to eventually fall asleep, but instead found unwanted thoughts invading his mind. 

He thought about many things before somehow thinking of his past addiction to demon blood. He didn’t crave it or anything. In fact, it seemed disgusting to think about now. It’s ridiculous to think he even liked such a repulsive substance at some point. The words freak, abomination, and aberration flashed in his head. He blanched at the thought of those words describing him. He desperately tried to push away the words, but a nasty, mocking voice just kept repeating them in his head. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. 

_You’re a disgusting little boy, aren’t you Sammy? Not even vampires drink demon blood, but not Sammy. Sammy loves the taste of nasty demon blood. Don’t you, Sammy? Angels know what you are: an abomination. Dean tells you filthy lies about how compassionate and good you are, but that’s not you, is it Sammy? You know what you are. You’re an unclean little boy. You’ve never been clean. No, not like Dean. Dean is a good boy, but not Sammy. You’ve tried to purify yourself: confessions, prayers, and detoxes. It just doesn’t work though, does it? There’s not enough showers to rinse you of the stain on your soul. Unclean little boy. Nasty, dirty little boy. Filthy, disgusting little boy. That’s what you are, aren’t you Sammy?_

Sobs racked his body as he tried to get rid of the terrible voice. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he said in a hushed yell. He clutched his head, trying to stay grounded, draw out the poisonous voice. Dean must have been awoken by his distressed voice because in an instant, he was by Sam’s side, gathering him up in his arms, shushing him and rocking him gently. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” The words blurred together, but Sam felt comforted by them nonetheless. Dean pressed a kiss to the top of his head and warmed Sam. After a few moments of this, Sam eventually calmed down.

“Dean.”  
“I’m here, Sammy. What is it?”  
Sam flinched at the nickname; Dean gripped a little tighter.  
“Sam, what happened?”  
“Nothing. It’s gone now.”  
Normally, Dean would have demanded Sam tell him, but tonight, he let it go.  
“Alright, then.” Dean started to leave the bed, but Sam’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist. Sam was looking down at the bedspread, not wanting Dean to see him in this state.  
“Stay,” Sam commanded, “Please.”

Dean settled back down on the bed with Sam still gripping him. He tilted Sam’s face up toward him. Sam cut off anything Dean was going to say with a kiss. It was a chaste yet needy and desperate kiss like Dean was a drink of water in the Sahara - salvation, comfort, precious. Sam pulled Dean down on top of him, falling back onto the mattress. The motion broke the kiss, but rather than resuming, Sam made quick work of undressing both of them, throwing their clothes haphazardly. The younger Winchester breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the skin-on-skin contact, finding comfort in feeling Dean against him. 

Without warning, Sam kissed him again, this time the kiss was urgent and rough. He bit and sucked on Dean’s lower lip while guiding his brother’s hand down to his growing erection. Dean began peppering kisses all over him - his jaw, his neck, his chest, lower and lower. Sam whimpered, running his hands up and down Dean’s sides before settling at his hip bones, rubbing circles there with the pads of his thumbs. Dean stopped his descent at Sam’s navel, fucking it with his tongue. His hands busied themselves with other things: one hand teasing Sam’s cock with feather-light touches and the other massaging Sam’s hole. The attention caused Sam to groan and harden completely. 

Sam quickly flipped them, pinning Dean’s arms with one hand. The other hand landed next to Dean’s face. His head was bowed, causing his hair to curtain his face. His breath was coming in short puffs as he paused for a moment to savor the feel of their erections pressed together. Then Sam started to rub against Dean and it felt so good - the slide of their precum-slick cocks, the grinding down, the thrusting up. 

They were moaning each others names, lost in the sea of sensations. After a few more thrusts, Sam found his release, painting Dean in long thick streams. Sam climaxing - head thrown back, mouth forming an “O”, eyes half lidded, and the sound of him groaning - pushed Dean over the edge. Once they came down from their highs, Sam moved and situated himself beside Dean. They were turned toward each other with legs tangled together and fingers interlaced between them.

“What happened?” asked Dean, softly.  
“We had sex?” joked Sam. Dean said nothing, just stared at him and patiently waited for an answer. Sam sighed before answering.  
“It was nothing, Dean. Just some bad thoughts...”  
“And?”  
“I-I’m not clean. I never have been, never will be.” The last words came out bitter and full of self-loathing.  
“Sammy.”  
“What?” his voice vehement yet without target.  
“Never say never.”  
Dean pressed one more kiss to Sam’s lips, conveying, with such a small action, everything he meant behind those words - faith, acceptance, love.


End file.
